


Snowman

by Beth Harker (Beth_Harker)



Category: Little Women Series - Louisa May Alcott
Genre: Angst, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-08
Updated: 2020-10-08
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:40:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26900776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beth_Harker/pseuds/Beth%20Harker
Summary: Every year Beth and Jo make a snowman together.
Relationships: Elizabeth March & Josephine March
Kudos: 8





	Snowman

Jo and Beth had had a winter tradition: during the first big snow of the season, they’d go out together and make a snowman. Then, Jo would give it a cheerful literary name from Dickens or Thackeray, and Beth would fuss over it, preserving it as long as she could through the winter frosts, until the spring thawing stole her icy friend away from her. As a child, Beth always cried bitterly when this happened. The year that she was infected with and subsequently recovered from scarlet fever, she took a more prosaic approach to the whole thing. 

“Everything must die in its time, mustn’t it Jo?” she’d said, gripping tight to Jo’s arm. She was still weak from her ordeals. Just the night before their annual snowman had been as jolly as ever, albeit rather brown and emaciated. The morning had brought with it a warm rain, and all that was left of the snowman was a red woolen had which Beth had knitted for it. She picked it up, and though it was wet and unpleasantly muddy, she gave it a light and solemn kiss. 

Normally, Jo would’ve agreed that all things must die. Of course they had to! Jo herself had written her share of rousing death scenes for her plays and stories. There was something about Beth, however, which stayed Jo’s tongue. It was as though Jo’s dearest sister, who’d once had the plumpest, rosiest cheeks a little girl could wish for, and who was now as sallow and white as a cold winter day, was not speaking about death in the abstract sense, but rather of something real and imminent. 

“I intend to live forever!” Jo said. “And so, of course, you must live forever with me.” 

Beth hadn’t answered, but she hadn’t spoken about death again for a very long time. She’d always tried so hard to make Jo happy. 

Jo would never forget the first year that Beth did not join her in the making of their annual snowman. 

“You know my lungs don’t do well in the cold,” she said softly. 

“It’s only a short jaunt, and it’s never stopped you before,” Jo pointed out. 

“You go! I’ll watch from the window.” 

Jo frowned. “Maybe we’re too old for this game.” 

“No!” said Beth. “That isn’t it. Jo dearest, please go and build something, do! Our yard won’t look right without it.” 

And so Jo went and built her snowman, feeling rather cold and adrift, but unwilling to disappoint Beth. 

Several days later, when the wind blew hard enough to knock the poor snowman’s head off, Beth trudged outside to replace it, never mind the cold, for she always had a need to help anything helpless or vulnerable even if that something wasn’t real. 

Though Jo would never say so out loud, she felt at times that Beth was kinder than god, for when she saw suffering she strive to ease it. Quietly, Jo prayed for the day when some unseeing hand would see the parts of Beth that were injured, swoop in, and fix them.


End file.
